Road trip!

I love road trips.  They involve hours of time next to the Husband, with eating out and hopefully .... conversation.  We love to talk, but after 37 years of marriage, we have covered most, if not all, topics.  So when one of us happens upon a new topic like a found treasure, we tuck it away for whatever upcoming road trip we might have planned.  Then one of us announces we have something about which to talk, which is akin to saying -- I just bought you a present -- and then we both settle in for an enjoyable 30 minutes or so.  When or if either of us (usually him) has been with, or talked to, a third party who might happen to be an Interesting Person .... the other one (usually me) is full of questions.

"So, why did ________ call?"

"And then what did he/she say?"

"And what'd you say?"

Etc.

If any of this sounds the least bit ...... pathetic ....... it's okay.  We like it.  It keeps the relationship humming along.

So yesterday was my birthday and hence, I got to choose the day's activity.  And I chose a road trip.  Just for the day.  Not an over-nighter .... I like to sleep in my own bed.  And, as I said, it was my birthday.

And what does this have to do with running?  Our mission was to scout out the route of a relay that I am interested in doing with my kids next summer.  I learned about this relay from an alert, semi-running friend who is thinking of doing the same with her own kids.  It's a one-day relay, 60-some miles, ending at the coastal town of Newport, Oregon ..... WHICH, if you have a keen memory, you'll remember that it was where I ran my marathon a year and a half ago.  The route of this relay finishes on the same road.  How cool is that?!

I don't usually scout out relay routes in advance, but this one involves a lot of gravel roads which raised a red flag.  I don't like to run on gravel.  Plus add in several hundred vans necessary to the functioning of relays, and you have dust.  Lots of dust.  I wanted to SEE these gravel roads and decide if they are tolerable.

So off we went.  And yes, there was conversation.  And food.  And a whole day together.  However, an hour and a half of driving to the start of this relay and several miles into it, we discovered a washed-out bridge and an impassible road.  The facebook page of this relay mentioned this wee problem, but one would think they'd have the updated 2013 route (which is the same as the 2012 route) posted on their website.  They didn't.  So most of the route will, by necessity, remain a mystery until next July.

Another bridge that wasn't washed out.
 (Too bad this shot doesn't show my cool new boots.)  

But we drove on to Newport anyway, via the main highway, and Husband got to listen to me relive my marathon as we revisited that memorable stretch of road ......

"THIS was the Mile 15 turn-around spot ..... I don't remember this part ..... wow, it seems so far! ..... I don't remember this part either .... HERE's where I was cursing the stupid bridge that refused to appear in the distance to tell me I was getting close to the end ..... and HERE was where a girl/angel stood by the road with a water hose to spritz us in the heat ..... and HERE was where I couldn't run anymore because of leg cramps and where you ran out to meet me ..... and that last hill ..... and the finish line!!"

 ........  Wow.  MY finish line ..... where everything melted into relief and triumph and joy that I NEVER have to do that again.

The weather yesterday was awful.  Rainy.  Windy.  And the daylight ended before Husband could capture a few photos of the raging gray surf.  And we ate WAY too much at the restaurant on the return home .... because they served mudpie which is one of my favorite desserts and it WAS my birthday ..... but now I'm a little concerned about the weight limit of the bridge in the photo ... assuming we'll be crossing it next summer.

So, in spite of a failed scouting mission, we think the relay will go on our calendar.  And in spite of my advancing OLD AGE, having weathered another year, I will give it a go.  And it will provide another topic of happy conversation with the Husband ..... on our next road trip.

Hoka What-What??

I have new shoes.  They aren't Adidas, Mizunos, Nikes, or any other of those impressively macho brand names.  They are Hoka One Ones.  There MUST be a story to that name, but I don't have a clue.  In several years of Runner's World magazine, I've never seen them mentioned.

Favorite First DIL (daughter-in-law, for those of you who have yet to enter the world of communicating in initials) first mentioned these shoes, which she learned about from someone in her town "who knows".  Google helpfully produced a picture and I was intrigued.  They looked cushy.  I LOVE cushy.  None of that minimalist stuff for me.  I'd strap pillows under my feet if they didn't create drag.  But the nearest dealer was in Renton, Washington, a good three or more hours away.

So weeks later, on a trip north to Seattle, Patient Husband kindly detoured us through Renton.  Just to try a pair on.  That way I could know if I like them and check sizes in case I decide to order a pair online.  I really didn't intend to buy anything.  Husband dropped me off and left to check out a nearby electronics store.  Well, they had a few pairs on sale -- last season's I guess .... in what I thought was my size.  What else can you do, when they are reduced $65?  I bought the shoes.

When Husband saw them, he subtly and discreetly noted their gargantuan size.

"They're HUGE!!" he blurted.

Hmmm ..... well, yes ...... he was right.  But they're size 10 and my old Asics were 10.5.  At this point, my Inner Vanity now demands that we're all perfectly clear that I don't have big feet.  I'm willing to repeat that if necessary.  In other shoes, I wear 8.5, a size so normal it's boring ..... but over the years, having destroyed more toenails than I can count, my running shoe size has grown.  And Hoka One Ones seem to run large anyway, in addition to being quite wide and boxy.  So it is descriptively accurate to say that I now run in ......

clown shoes.

CUSHY clown shoes.   I can run over rocks and hardly feel them.  They ALMOST rank the AWE factor of my Tempur-Pedic mattress ...... almost.  (And not much in this world compares to my bed.)

So look out Fashion Police.  Go ahead and laugh.  I don't care ..... much ..... well, except that same Inner Vanity is now threatening to revolt.  But at least my feet are happy and my toenails may survive the year.

**************

P.S.  For Susette, since she asked.

Considering the state of my hair this morning, this is all you get in this shot.

Update!  I have since learned that they are pronounced Hoka Onay Onay.  It's from the Maori language, and means "Time to fly"!  Gotta love that!

Is it just me?

Running messes with my emotions.

Example:  Hood to Coast 2012.  My first leg was just over four miles on a gradual down hill.  Easy.  My second leg, however, was 7.25 miles on a mostly flat road with some low hills.  I gave myself complete permission to take walking breaks if needed.  But I ran it all, non-stop.  Each time I thought about walking, the slope would head downward, so I kept running.  Then up the next hill, repeating the thought process:  "I can walk now ... no, it's going downhill again."  Till about two miles from the end and it became a "I gotta do this!"  It was now dark and when I could see the lights of the exchange ahead I knew I was .... AMAZING.

Note:  You may be wondering:  7.25 miles?  Why is that a big deal? .... Let me explain.  Until I started my marathon training in December of 2010, I practically never walked during a run.  I ran my first 13.1 miles (half marathon) without walking, except for the potty-break which we're not counting.  But then I learned that many, many people run marathons with walking breaks -- that it was actually allowed in the World of Running ... and I instantly signed on to the mentality.

And I haven't been able to go back.

 It's harder to push myself on a routine run.  On a good day I can run three miles before taking a break.  So 7.25 was a big deal.

When I finally got to that exchange, it was fortunate that Husband was there because I sank into his shoulder, gulped air, and half-sobbed.   Weird.

My last leg was something around 5 miles and I ran all of it as well.  (Go easy on your critique of my posture in this photo, please.  This was at the end of almost 18 miles total.  I only had three hours of sleep and my iPod battery had died about four miles back.)

(Thanks Dave, for a great picture.)

Another example:  Favorite Daughter's marathon last spring.  I went to show support and to run with her during her last couple of miles.  As I trotted out to meet her, I could hardly contain my enthusiasm for all those MAGNIFICENT people finishing up their 26.2!  I KNEW what they had been through, not only for the last several hours, but for the last six months!  All complete strangers, yet I was so dang proud of every one of them!   I hope I reined in my giddiness enough to not look too idiotic.  At least I didn't try to high-five them all.

Another example:  I've mentioned this before, but almost every time I run a race with other people .... not just a fun run ..... but an organized race ... I nearly burst with:  1. Love for the world,  2. Kinship with all present,  3. Knee-buckling GRATITUDE that I can DO this, and ... 4. The false perception that I feel GOOD and can run for miles and miles!  Of course it all melts off after about five minutes and I begin to wonder why the heck I keep doing this whole stupid running thing.

Then there's my music playlist.  Each song was carefully chosen.  And they are now mine.  You see, when you run to a song enough times, you can somehow take credit for it.   And the song becomes better than other songs ..... until you become sick of it and dump it from your list.  So when it comes on the radio when you aren't running, you feel good.  Because it's one of YOUR songs ...... and you want to point it out to other people and brag, "I run to that song!" ...... which SHOULD make you all the more cool in their eyes ...... don't you think?  ...... oh never mind.

Last of all, I have scarcely any practicality in my brain, when thinking about a race far in the future .... like next summer.  Times like that I'm fueled on pure emotion.  Especially when fun people, whom I adore, are involved.  I'm trying to not leap into commitments like I typically do, and instead give those impulses time to work their way through my thought processes for at LEAST a few weeks, or more.   Because I KNOW that a few days before any event, I'll be seriously questioning my level of sanity when I signed up.

So that's it.  End of post.  No pithy finale.  Just this song.  Which is MINE.  'Cause I run to it.